


you're the softest

by batznbonez



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Fluff, Happy Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Happy Mickey Milkovich, Hurt/Comfort, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, M/M, Mickey Milkovich Loves Ian Gallagher, POV Mickey Milkovich, Sad Ian Gallagher, Slight Hurt/Comfort, Soft Ian Gallagher, Soft Mickey Milkovich, dancing in the kitchen, for fucking once, its okay, not for long, prison (mention), the boys being happy and acting married, the boys just talk about their feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-06 04:35:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21220670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batznbonez/pseuds/batznbonez
Summary: The boys are out of prison. They have soft moments and talk about their feelings, integrating some parts of their past while learning to let go of others--though, they come to realize that at the end of it all, they'd never let go of each other.





	you're the softest

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This will be my first official fic. I've always had scenarios playing out in my head, but this is the first I've written of them. I will try to update frequently. Some events may or may not line up with the events of season 10, depending on when the chapters are posted and if JWells does the boys any justice. I hope you enjoy! Constructive criticism is welcome! One can always learn lol :-)

It’s Tuesday morning. Mickey wakes up suddenly and with a jolt, ten minutes before his alarm was due to go off, to the smell of burnt coffee and a crying baby.

Great.

The crying didn’t last long, though. Mickey hears Lip’s heavy ass feet stomp across the hall before he begins cooing to the baby, apologizing as if he had left him there to fend for himself for a whole day instead of the ten minutes he had actually been awake. Mickey rubs his eyes with the hand closest to his face and quietly mourns the loss of his ten minutes of sleep. He’s unwittingly reminded of when Yevgeny would cry. How he would wait for someone, anyone to get him or for him to stop wailing on his own. It’s not like he wanted the kid to suffer through whatever it was that was upsetting him, quite the opposite in fact. For one, the crying was annoying as shit. Two, he knew what it was like for his feelings to be consistently ignored and wished away, for him to have to smother everything down in order to function.

So, he wanted someone to comfort Yevgeny. He just couldn’t fathom why it had to be him that had to do it. He knew fuck all about babies. How to care for them, how to comfort them, how to want them. It’s not like he asked for the kid. He was, literally, forced upon him. Just like his mother. Just like most things in his life. But then…he thinks to himself; the kid didn’t ask for him either. So, maybe they weren’t so different after all. He wonders how often the kid cries now. It was all so long ago. Hopefully, he only cries about dumb shit like not being able to have a fucking chocolate milkshake and not because he was backhanded when finally broke down and asked if there was anything to eat in the house after two days of nothing. He was only seven. His thoughts are interrupted by the long, freckled arm around him tightening and a warm, freckled nose blowing moist air between his shoulder blades as he exhales. Ian grunts and snuffles into Mickey’s back. Mickey welcomes the distraction, shifting back slightly into the solid form behind him. It was too early for that shit anyway.

“You’re warm,” Ian mumbles. Fuck. That voice. He fucking loves that voice. First thing in the morning. He fucking loves this kid. This man. He’d take this over a crying baby any day. There’s one thing that hasn’t changed.

Mickey smiles softly, “That’s what happens when you lay in the same space for ten hours, under a blanket, under an arm, genius.”

He feels Ian smile against his back.

“S’nice. Don’t get up,” he commands quietly. Mickey can tell he’s not far from being asleep again. He smiles to himself. A bossy fucker, even in his sleep. He wishes he could stay and spend the day like this. He’ll take what he can get, though. He had time for that during the first few weeks out of prison, during his very short grace period. He spent more time fucking and…cuddling, than he did looking for a job.

Priorities.

The job wasn’t as hard to come by as one might think, though. He thinks his record may have even helped him out a bit. In a way, it went hand in hand with his resume. Mickey scored a job in the mall, working security. Redemption tale, indeed.

Honestly, he didn’t think that he would get it, convicted felon and all, but they seemed to like him well enough and figured he would be good at what he did. And he was. So, he’d deal with having to get up at a decent hour, as tempting as it was to stay.

They lie there, breathing in sync, until Mickey’s alarm goes off. Mickey huffs a sigh, shifting himself a bit, preparing to get up. He feels the arm around him tighten again. Jesus, he’s needy. Needy and sweet. Needy and sweet and so convincing.

“Mmm…don’t get up. Warm,” Ian complains. Convincing. Hasn’t even done much, then again, he’s never really had to. Mickey’s always been a sucker for this kid, always will be. Can’t stay, though. Can’t.

“I got to, man. Gotta shower for work. I haven’t been there long enough to start missin days,” Mickey explains, sliding his hand down Ian’s arm until it is resting atop the other man’s hand. He slips his fingers in between Ian’s, holding lightly.

“You’re warm…and squishy,” Ian says, louder this time, mostly to himself. Mickey can hear the smile in his voice. He squeezes Mickey’s side for emphasis. Little shit starter.

Mickey raises his eyebrows, twisting under Ian’s arm and forcing himself upward while pushing Ian onto his back. He takes Ian’s hands and forces them down by his head, enjoying the breathless and wide-eyed look he never fails to get from Ian every time he takes control.

“Squishy?” Mickey asks, challengingly. “Too far, Gallagher.”

“Mhm. Squishy,” Ian grins mischievously, “you’re the softest. Softest in the Southside.”

Mickey gives a few playful rolls of his hips, “Mmm…not for long.”

Ian bites his lip, still grinning, “Thought you had to go to work?” His confident tone is convincing, but Mickey can see the flicker in his eyelids at the friction. He smiles to himself.

“I do,” he says innocently. “I’m getting ready right now.”

He releases Ian’s hands, lifts himself up, and gives one more teasing press of his body before climbing off of him completely. He bends down, knowing he’s being watched, and grabs his somewhat clean towel from the floor, making sure to take his time. He hears Ian’s indignant groan as he swaggers towards the Gallagher bathroom. He tosses a look towards their open bedroom door.

“You know where to find me if you have a problem.”

He can feel Ian’s smirk all the way from the bathroom. He closes the door, leaving it open just a crack. An invitation that he knows will be accepted. Mickey takes his boxers off, turns the shower on, and waits. He hears the creak of the door over the spray of the shower. He feels the cold air hit his body as the curtain is pulled back and large freckled hands grab his hips.

*


End file.
